Afterburn
by LozieDeanon
Summary: Yuri did not become Lunatic overnight. It took years, fifteen years, of thinking, planning, training, waiting, and struggling not to go insane. Yuri backstory, deanon from the Tiger and Bunny Anon Meme.
1. Student

A fill from the Tiger and Bunny Anon Meme. Prompt: _Yuri learns to control his powers, and balances his life with his growing madness, with his end goal being to envelop himself in the mantle of_ Lunatic.

Rated T for abuse, some language, and violence.

* * *

A standard flamethrower propels fire forward. The operator releases a flammable gas into the air, and then ignites it. Unless you've got some very unfortunate wind, the flame doesn't engulf the operator. It stays forward, on attack, and the operator stays out of harm's way.

Yuri's fire isn't like that. He tries to ignite just his fingertips, but the flame naturally reaches back, trying to engulf his knuckles, his palm, his wrist. It will burn upward like a candle if he twists his hand the right, but it always spreads further along Yuri's body, rather than out into the open, as Yuri's flesh is its natural fuel. After getting home from the hospital, his first few attempts to control it just stoke it, and the flame jumps erratically. Sometimes he sets off the fire alarm, which thankfully isn't connected to the fire department itself. Yuri can just reset the alarm keypad and in then, in the worst cases, eases his mother back into bed with gentle reassurances that Papa stopped it, and they're safe.

He knows it's wrong to lie to his mother, but he's just trying to survive the darkness long enough for something to make sense. He can't handle this right now. A lie is easier. Otherwise, he knows his own fire is going to swallow him whole.

* * *

His high school knows that Mr. Petrov passed away, burned alive by a terrible gasoline fire in his garage. Well, that's what Yuri told the firefighters, and that's what the firefighters told the mortician. Hero TV says that Mr. Legend has retired (because there's no way Hero TV can say their invincible hero is dead) and entrusts the safety of the city to his fellow heroes, who all make passionate speeches about carrying on Legend's legend.

The conflicting messages don't help Yuri's mother, who most days can't tell if her husband is alive or dead. For example, she'll ask Yuri where his father is. Yuri looks at her until she remembers the truth, and then runs screeching from the room. She cries herself out of energy, and when she next wakes up, the illusion is back in place. Yuri finds he can maintain it if he likes, make excuses and dodge questions, and earn himself a few more hours of peace.

It's not easy. And it doesn't make it any easier for Yuri to return to school.

The long stripes of his father's fingers are as healed as medical science can make them. There will always be a burn. The only pain is phantom at this point, but Yuri can't really tell the difference between hurt felt and hurt remembered every time he sees that angry red scar. Seconds before the bus arrives, in shame and fear, Yuri paints his face with his mother's makeup. They have the same Lady Fair skin tone, and the scar vanishes under the thick concealer. Yuri feels like his face is about to slide off at any moment, and between each class, he runs to the bathroom to check that it's all still in place, nothing smudged or sweated. Like he could actually do touch-ups at school, where anyone could walk in and see.

Teachers and friends offer "anything he needs." The phrase is so open-ended that all semblance of what Yuri could ask for just drains right out his ears. Anything he needs could include doctors for his mother, repairs to the hated garage, payments for utilities that month, food for that night. But he doesn't ask for anything, in the end. It doesn't matter.

All of his classes go in one ear and out the other, and the only thing that gains any traction in his mind at all is his Government and Politics class. The teacher is explaining tax brackets, but Yuri flips forward to the section on criminal justice.

_Misdemeanor._A minor criminal act as defined by a governing body. Frequent crimes defined as misdemeanors include vandalism, petty theft, reckless driving, or trespassing.

_Felony._A major criminal act as defined by a governing body. Frequent crimes defined as felonies include murder, rape, and burglary.

Murder.

Murder.

_Self-defense._Some states permit the use of lethal force against another person when that person demonstrates a danger to others, such a person's family.

Self-defense.

Murder.

Self-defense.

Murder.

Self-defense.

Murder.

* * *

Yuri arrives home one day to find a car parked outside his house, in the street. It doesn't look like a police car, at least. When he reaches the front door, he hears his mother screaming.

He rushes inside and finds her crumpled on the couch, a very distraught-looking man in a suit trying and failing to comfort her. Yuri shoves the man into the hallway, hoping that he mumbled some sort of apology or "excuse me," before returning to his mother's side. She wails at him, thankfully without words, and tries to fight Yuri off as he takes hold of her shaking body and half-pushes, half-drags his mother into her bedroom. Once at the threshold, she decides to use it as a fortress, and flings herself inside, barricading the door behind her. Her sobs fade.

One problem solved. Now for the man in the hallway.

"Absolutely tragic," the man says. He has a very sincere resonance in his voice. "This is all very difficult for her."

Yuri asks what the man wants.

"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself," the man replies, passing Yuri a business card in lieu of giving his name. Yuri doesn't even glance at it. "I am the executive producer of Hero TV. There's interest in gathering Mr. Legend memorabilia for a museum. I came here with an offer for the Legendmobile and any hero suits your father had at home."

Yuri understands this is about money. Soulless, heartless money.

"It will be a lease to the potential museum. The property will be owned and operated by Hero TV, and the lease will come up for renewal every few years. Then you can choose to extend the contract or take the items back into your private possession."

The man shows Yuri the contract. Yuri sees a lot of it is in fine print, but he also sees the number. With quite a few zeroes. And the dotted line where his mother is supposed to sign.

Yuri explains his mother is in no fit state to handle these kinds of documents. After the display Yuri's mother provided when the businessman asked her about her husband's death, he is inclined to believe Yuri. But in a small voice, Yuri swears that if he were allowed to sign that lease, he would in a heartbeat.

The businessman leaves, and a week later, he returns with a brand new contract that Yuri can legally sign with all sorts of provisions for minors and a special bank account co-signed by Hero TV until Yuri turns eighteen. He does read through the entire contract, but he finds no offensive, entangling clauses, so, as promised, Yuri signs.

When the man folds up the contract, he takes a deep sigh. "I don't know if I can express how much your father did for this city. It feels wrong to try and put a price all of this, but for all the sacrifices that he has made… and that _you_ have made… Well, you shouldn't worry about money anymore. You at least deserve that peace."

Yuri briefly wonders if this man _knows_, but his tone and phrasing sound so compassionate that Yuri just stares at his sneakers. True, money won't be a problem. Between this new museum lease, royalties on products that use Legend's image, and life insurance payments, the Petrov family could sustain their current lifestyle indefinitely.

"And if there's anything you need from me, anything at all, please don't hesitate to call."

With those words, Yuri suddenly doesn't want to see the businessman's face anymore. He doesn't even answer the door when the truck comes the next day to steal away his father's superhero car and spare costumes. Yuri just packs it all in the hated garage and then opens the garage door when he hears the doorbell ring. From a little window in the bathroom, he watches the movers shrug, steer the car into a large truck, secure it, and then drive off

It's easier that it's gone. If anyone comes by, Yuri won't have to explain why Mr. Legend's car is in his garage. Besides, it gave him a good excuse to scour the entire house and pack everything about his father into three boxes: Useless junk, like his toothbrush and razor, to be thrown out. Legend stuff, to be sent away. And mementos, to be packed in a box and hidden out of sight.

* * *

There's a lot a few streets over. Paved, nothing on it, screened with trees. He has no idea what it's for or why, just that it's deserted. Yuri takes an electric camping lantern and, donning a dark hoodie, sneaks out of the house.

He drops the hood in the lot, checking one last time for witnesses. In the pale lantern light, Yuri glows and ignites his hand. He tries again to push the fire off of his hand, into the open, but the fire just grows. With no fire alarms to worry about, Yuri swallows the fear and pushes harder, trying to force the fire off of him. The flame reaches further down his arm, to his wrist, past his wrist.

The instant Yuri feels the heat, he stops, drops, rolls, rolls and rolls and rolls and rolls and knocks over the camping lantern. Finally he stops rolling, and realizes he is unburned. His hoodie fared far worse, the entire lower part of the sleeve charred off.

Yuri pulls off the hoodie and leaves it in a pile on the ground. He ignites his hand again, and pushes at the flames. The licks of fire crawl down his hand and up his arm, but he doesn't even feel them. As an experiment, Yuri finds a dead branch and ignites the end. Once a little blue flame burns on the end of the stick, he extinguishes his own fire and holds the branch near his arm. His skin prickles with too-close-to-the-campfire pain. Yuri drops the stick and stomps it out.

He's fireproof to his own fire. But once that fire ignites something else, Yuri is just as flammable as the rest of the world. His fingers tremble as they trace the edge of his scar. That means the scar is his own fault. If he hadn't burned his father, his father could never have burned him…

Yuri's not sure exactly how long he stands there, but the stars shift and he knows he needs to be home soon. But, the issue remains of his hoodie. How best to dispose of a charred hoodie where no one would ask questions?

Half from inspiration, half from desperation, Yuri took three steps away from his hoodie, ignited his hand, and then swung it down in an enormous tomahawk chop. The flame flew off his hand, a wave of fire slicing right through the mass of dark cotton and polyester. The synthetic fibers burn with an unpleasant odor, but burn they do, until nothing remains but ash and a black mark on the concrete. The wind will take care of the ash. The mark will be blamed on less reputable teenagers.

Yuri goes home.

* * *

The only thing he feels like studying are law books. He has no interest in anything else. He just accumulates Sternbild law codes, rulings, dissents, records, anything in the public domain, creating a mental hierarchy of damnation. No matter how many additions of assault and battery and robbery and extortion and fraud and drug abuse he adds to the list, in varying degrees, they can never eclipse Yuri's crime.

Never.

There's a history teacher—a teacher who years later, Yuri will forget the name of—who notices Yuri's interest in law, and asks if he wants to be a lawyer someday. Yuri doesn't want to be anything, but it's so easy to nod his head.

"You know, law and society are inseparable," the teacher says. "Any lawyer worth his salt is going to need a healthy grounding in other disciplines, mathematics, science, literature…" He produces a book. "Philosophy."

Yuri forgets the teacher, but he remembers the book. The Social Contract by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. He remembers every word.

Well, all the important ones, anyway.

_The death penalty for criminals may be considered from this point of view: it is to avoid being the victim of murder that we consent to die if we become murderers. Every wrongdoer, in attacking the rights of society by his crimes, becomes a rebel and a traitor to his country. When a criminal is put to death, it is as an enemy rather than as a citizen._

It's a miracle that Yuri has escaped discovery for as long as he has. But if anyone had bothered to ask his opinion, he would have rather used his miracle to make Papa well again.

_Traitor. Enemy. Murderer._

Self-defense…

_Murderer._

Murderer.

Murderer.

* * *

Yuri gets by flinging the fire. He builds it up on his hand, and with a sufficient force, whips it off of his being and into open space. He's got a range of twenty or so feet, and increasing the more Yuri practices, but after each night he goes to practice, he feels like his arms are about to fall out of their sockets. He's going to need to find a new way to control this power.

He's not entirely sure why he's bothering to try and control this power at all. He justifies it that some NEXT powers are unpredictable and flare up at odd times. He needs a baseline of practice so he won't go up in flames in the middle of class. But learning how to throw fireballs doesn't feel like learning to control the power, not directly.

He has no idea what he's doing.

* * *

His grades pick up. He makes them pick up. Because kids with good grades don't have insane mothers. Kids with good grades don't have abusive fathers. Kids with good grades aren't murderers. No one thinks there are problems at home if he has good grades. It helps that before the murder, Yuri was never a social butterfly, so a somber style of dress and sullen appearance aren't too far off his norm.

Study hard. Stay alive.

* * *

Get into college.

It just happened. It was more natural to send off the applications and fall in line with the rest of the class than somehow explain that he had no real interest in attending college, and draw unwanted attention onto himself. There's one school close enough to commute from home, so he can take care of his mother as he attends class. That one gets his deposit and confirmation of attendance.

One of his friends—more of a smokescreen than a friend, yes—one of his smokescreens was so overjoyed by his college acceptance letter he became a NEXT with the power to turn orange juice into vinegar. Everyone else teases him over the uselessness of that power, but the guy turns it around.

"You're just jealous because I'm a NEXT," he crows. "And you're not!"

Which sparks a discussion about what kind of NEXTs the boys would want to be and why. They eventually take notice of Yuri.

"So what kinda NEXT would you want to be?"

"Are you a NEXT?"

Yuri says no, he's not a NEXT. And if he were, he'd want time powers. When pressed, he just answers again, time powers. Stopping time. Turning it back. Stuff like that.

No, no reason. Yuri just thinks time powers are cool.

* * *

Yuri caught his hair on fire once.

Through regular practice, he finds that his natural fireproofing extends to very thin, tight material. Anything too thick or loose catches and burns, so he buys a long-sleeved compression shirt and matching leggings. Maximum range of motion, nothing to burn. Flinging fire is growing more natural, too. Now, all it takes is a jab to push the flame off of his hand and into the open air, no arm-swirling catapult.

Seeking a larger practice space, Yuri discovers that a shopping center near his college doesn't have any security cameras or night watch trained on the parking lots. Past the hours of midnight, he can practice there in peace. Any burns will again be blamed on students of his college, but so long as there are no injuries and no debris, investigations will stay light. In this new area, Yuri opens with a barrage of flame, rapid-fire cannon shot flying at the furthest distance he could muster. Yuri sees the world ignite with a blue filter, and suddenly there's heat on his face. Shrieking—and flashing back, his father's hand, right there, _right there on his face_—Yuri drops and rolls until the flame is gone.

With the fire gone and his heartbeat gradually returning to normal, Yuri touches the charred ends of his fringe. When was the last time he had a haircut? Other thoughts, from his mother to classes to these secret practice sessions usually occupy his thoughts. He hasn't thought about grooming beyond standard hygiene and concealer in a _very_ long time. In light of this accident, he should get a short style. Clean-cut.

But then again… Yuri drops his hair and traces a burned corner of his eye. Yes, he has a tendency to burn from the eyes when using too much of his power. But then, wouldn't a long hairstyle be the perfect deterrent against people assuming that he might be a fire-type NEXT? Just a bit of caution, ponytails, barrettes, and skull caps, and Yuri could remove himself from a list of potential suspects.

…Why on earth would Yuri be part of a group of suspects? Suspects for what? It's been a few years since Mr. Petrov died in that 'gasoline fire,' what use did Yuri have for disguises?

_Because the world hasn't seen the last of me._

What exactly that means is lost on Yuri for the moment. He leaves for the night, because he needs to cut off the scorched ends of his hair.

* * *

His mother wastes away. She rarely moves. If she stands, it's only to cross the room and sit quickly in another location. Yuri has to help her to bed, and not because she screams and resists him, but because her knees shake too much to support her weight for that long. She forgets to eat with increasing frequency. She thinks she made dinner for the family, but really, all she did was clink dishes together and put them on the table, and then scrape them with a fork and knife until 'finished.' And short of causing another screaming match, Yuri knows no other way to make his mother eat.

He tells her he was practicing cooking today.

"Oh? You're getting so grown-up, Yuri. Such a fine young man. Well, I did already have dinner…"

Please, Mama? Just a few bites. He wants her to try it, this heavy, nutrient-rich dish.

"All right, if it means that much to you." She'll eat a few forkfuls of whatever Yuri made, appraising it. "You're improving, Yuri! Remember just last year when you forgot to put the top on the blender?"

Yuri doesn't tell his mother, but that was nearly six years ago now. The real world is becoming more and more distant to her. And even though she only eats about half the plate, his mother laughs and insists she's done.

"No more, Yuri, or I'll burst! At least if you practice more dishes like this, I won't worry about you eating poorly when you grow up."

Yuri makes a stupid joke about a healthy dinner earning a big dessert, and his mother laughs, and even as he regrets the lie, he knows that this will last his mother a through the next day.

* * *

Yuri is constantly seeking spaces to practice, looking for areas with different qualities that might let him experiment with a wider variety of flames. He finds another site, an area under a highway, cement beneath an exit ramp, and burns away the stray weeds and scraggly bushes. He's working in miniature now, trying to manipulate each individual tendril of flame. He sits cross-legged beneath the overpass and holds out one hand, sending little licks of blue fire skating around, like snakes crawling along the surface of his skin, wrapping up and down his fingers.

He wonders about the possibilities of this fire. He can throw fire, yes. He can manipulate it around his body. Like squeezing blood out of a cut, Yuri uses his other hand to surround his burning one and drip the fire down. The flame hovers an inch above the pavement, about the size of a baseball, dancing, a fire without fuel. With his hands, he squeezes it down into a little marble, smaller, smaller, smaller, until it's as small as a painkiller.

He sweeps it away.

_FWOOOSH._

The pellet explodes in a gigantic fireball, blue and green flames spreading in all directions. Yuri has beat the flames out of the underbrush with his jacket, and at the end of it all, burn the jacket, too.

Yuri experiments during summer break, trying to create other pellets, alter their force and intensity, and even the shape; for instance, he crafted a few long, slender rods, a few as long as his forearm. He can throw them like javelins, but for the increased power, Yuri sacrifices accuracy and control. He's just no good at spear-throwing.

Well, he can never afford to sacrifice control. But seeing his fire take the form of a more conventional weapon sends his thoughts in unconventional directions.

* * *

Yuri's professors adore him. A model student with excellent grades; humble, deferential manners; morals that are sound and most importantly _consistent_—even when faced with ethical paradoxes, when Yuri answers, he never answers hypocritically, and never with a sense that the knowledge of 'right' and 'wrong' is his alone; he listens respectfully, praises others when they are clever, and directs praise for himself toward his mentors. He's recommended for various internships at esteemed law offices, a nigh-miraculous number of options for a college senior, but lots of very powerful people have come to believe in him for some reason.

His charade is extremely effective, then.

One of the internships is highly recommended by his pre-law advisor, and it's an idea that fills Yuri with absolute revulsion. He's been offered the chance to work with the Justice Bureau's Hero Department, assisting and shadowing one of the prosecutors responsible for convicting criminals arrested by heroes. He's avoided Hero TV as best he can for so long, maybe not the ads, but the show itself, he hasn't seen an episode in years. And how he'll be working directly with the show?

His stomach churns. His hands shake. His scar aches.

But with a sense of looming destiny, he takes the job.


	2. Aide

Within one week, he wants to die.

Or better yet, _burn the whole world into ashes and let nothing survive_.

The parade of filth before his eyes. The way the heroes are praised and exalted, even when they get the wrong man and Yuri's boss has no case. These _monsters,_ just as despicable as Yuri himself who, unlike Yuri, _refuse to acknowledge they've done anything wrong_. No pity the lives they've destroyed, twisted, taken.

_When a criminal is put to death, it is as an enemy rather than as a citizen._

Yuri could slaughter them. All of them. He could push one of his fire pellets past their lips and burn them alive from the inside out. They'd certainly die. No fingerprints. Yuri's public record says he isn't a NEXT. But even as he entertains these thoughts, he knows he has absolutely no access to these criminals, not as what he is: an intern-aide-student-novice-_weakling._

He knows the arguments from both camps: death penalty, or life sentences? Sternbild itself settled about ten years ago that no criminal deserved the death penalty, but set the maximum sentence at 250 years, two and a half times longer than all but the longest human lives. But it's in an oaken law office that Yuri realizes what he's truly meant for, what his odd half-formed notions of fate and power have been culminating in.

_Let action speak louder than words. Let Sternbild see how they like a world where criminals are punished as enemies of the state. And when I am correct, justice will shine once again._

* * *

Yuri makes a list.

He must conceal his identity, to protect his mother. He needs a mask.

Even as Yuri goes forth to kill criminals, he should never encourage others to follow his path. He doesn't want more vigilantism, he wants a change in the system. He needs a frightening appearance.

What happens when the heroes stand to challenge him? He needs basic physical abilities: stamina, agility, strength.

He's been doing well with fireballs, pellets, and spears, but even he knows he's not very combat-effective. He needs better weapons.

What other uses does his power have? He needs mastery of as many tangential skills as possible.

Yuri knows it's a daunting list. And he can't dare to begin his crusade until all of these elements have been sufficiently addressed. It will take _years _before he will ever consider himself possibly ready.

Best get to work.

* * *

The day of Yuri's college graduation does not go as planned. He starts the day black and blue from the night before as he made attempts to use his flame as a means of propulsion, which was a complete disaster. He can do nothing more than jump in the air, activate the fire in his hands, veer slightly to one direction, and then crash back down, his knees and elbows taking the brunt of the force. He oversleeps, skips breakfast and a shower before his internship, his makeup caked on so thick it cracks, and he is astonished no one calls him out. The defense lawyer from that morning's hearing can do nothing but parrot "Sternbild v. Hemmington, Sternbild v. Hemmington" as grounds for his client's innocence, and makes the trial run late with his incompetence. Yuri skips his lunch to help his boss with backed up work, assisting late into the afternoon edging into the evening. Skipping dinner, Yuri has ten minutes to toss on graduation robes and a cap to receive his diploma and finally, _finally_, go home.

Sleep deprived. Starving. Aching. Stressed. This is the tortured life Yuri earned for himself the instant he decided to become a killer for justice.

Well, no. Tracing back even further, this is the fate Yuri earned the instant he killed his father.

He finds his mother lost in fantasy again, discussing her plans for the summer garden, and asking for her husband's color preferences for the pansies out front. And Yuri just can't take it tonight. He snaps at her in rage; stupid, weak woman, why is she clinging to the husband who beat her? Can't she see that he's—

Right there. Mr. Legend sits in the armchair opposite his mother, shining in his hero regalia, his eyes bright and shadowed at the same time. With a smirk, he asks Yuri, "_Did you think you could get rid of me so easily?_"

Yuri blasts the armchair, and in half a second, the whole thing is ablaze. Legend is gone, and his mother shrieks.

"Murderer! MURDERER!"

After another few seconds, Yuri regains his senses, grabs his mother and at least gets her into the backyard before dashing back into the house to fight the fire with the extinguisher from under the kitchen sink. Chasing the blaze from the roots, Yuri douses the chair in nitrogen until the fire is no more.

And he stands there, staring at the charred and slightly smoking mass of scorched cloth and wood, the words he heard clear as day reverberating in his head: _Did you think you could get rid of me so easily? Did you think you could get rid of me? Did you think?_

* * *

He calls in sick.

He feels sick.

How can this happen to him? He understands that his mother sees visions of her husband, something that gives her hope, however fragile, to hold on to. But Yuri didn't need his father for hope. He didn't _want_ his father for hope! He knew what that man was: an abusive, alcoholic monster who couldn't handle his own weakness. Too afraid to own up to his fears. Too obsessed with image, too brutal to love, too angry to care. Every trace of the loving father Yuri remembered faded away as his father's NEXT powers declined, his kindness and strength vanishing with the subtle blue glow. No, the absolute _last _person Yuri would look to if he needed hope was his father.

Which is probably why he saw Mr. Legend.

Though he had heard the words from his father's mouth, _never permit evil _is a Legend-like ideology if there ever was one. As the other heroes flounder with corporations and reputations, Yuri stands free, clear-eyed and able to see evildoers for what they really are: enemies of the state to be exterminated. Legend would be proud of him.

Then, if that were true, why did Legend sound so… accusatory? As if he were condemning Yuri for his actions?

After three days of cowering in his room, knees jammed under his chin, hands tangled through his hair, eyes squeezed shut, alone with his thoughts and memories, Yuri uncurls, stumbles out into the open, and checks on his mother. She's very frail, incoherent as well, but he spoons applesauce into her mouth until she refuses any more. Then Yuri drinks the rest of the jar, tossing it into the garbage can, stinking with meat trimmings from the last meal Yuri prepared.

He can't afford to go insane. There's too much depending on him. His mother will die if he crumbles, short of turning her over to authorities and revealing his sin. He knows that his masquerade will be missed at work, and for the time being, supporting false justice is preferable to a world without justice. No matter how much it disgusts him, he can't afford to disengage from the system, not yet. And everyone else who has tried to take on the mantle of the executioner has been lead dismally astray or captured and left to rot in a jail cell. Even in the face of madness, Yuri has hope that his power is what it takes to make the world see that they cannot have peace without penalties for those who disrupt it.

He cleans the kitchen. He showers. He runs the washing machine. He promises to be at work tomorrow. And he keeps that promise.

* * *

He starts drinking tea. Because it's relaxing. Because it's medicinal. But it's very, very bitter, and Yuri can't stand it at first.

It becomes tolerable if he adds a spoonful of honey.

* * *

Aftershocks of that first terrible hallucination continue as little things remind Yuri of his father. He packed up the photos and mementos long ago, but he keeps finding reminders in society in general, from Legends-Cola to car decals to sound bites of interviews with a new hero who calls Legend his idol. What Yuri wouldn't give to see Mr. Legend as an idol once again. His reactions to these shadows are at least easily masked: save a few shivers, Yuri draws no unnecessary attention to himself.

Then his mother finds the memento box, stuffed full of pictures and souvenirs, so many things with a strong connection to her husband.

"Monster!" she screams, pitching the treasures at Yuri's head. "How could you kill him? You demon!"

And he tries, he honestly tries, to explain what he and his mother have never addressed. He spells out that she was abused, that her husband had no right to treat her the way that he did, and how was he supposed to stand by and watch as the two people he loved most in the world fought and argued, until one physically struck the other?

"He could have changed!" she insists. "That was the time when he needed us there most! But instead of supporting him, _you murdered him_!"

And the logic just short-circuits in his brain. Since when did support mean that his mother agreed to become a punching bag? Since when were marriage vows one-sided, where his mother had to give everything to his father and gain nothing but bruises in return? Since when did his father deserve any help, from any of them, after the way he treated them? The way he treated her—!

A lick of flame appears over his eyes, turning his vision blue-green. Yuri claps a hand over the fire, extinguishing it, but his mother has already seen, and a wave of hysteric tears mingle with her outburst.

"You're going to kill me too, I know it! This is where you kill people! Get back! _Get back!_"

Yuri can't do anything. If he leaves, his mother might hurt herself with something in the garage. If he approaches her, he'll frighten her even worse, and maybe traumatize her further. All he can do is stand there as she pitches memories at his head, using all of her declining strength to hurt him and gain some sense of power in her own life.

He understands a little better, after an experience like that, the situation that his mother was faced with, and how impossible the choice 'to leave or to stay' actually was.

In the end, she tires out. Yuri keeps his distance until he's absolutely sure she's fainted, and then carries her back in the house and puts her to bed. Back in the garage, almost everything is broken. It's a good reason to throw it all away, but he saves the photographs, pulling them from their shattered frames and storing them in a manila envelope.

With that episode, his mother destroyed most of the reminders of her husband that survived Yuri's initial purge. But he really couldn't deal with this anymore. He had a career and a quest, and he needed to keep his mother's episodes as few and far between.

He can still see it all play out in his mind. He glances at the corner where he cowered as a child, powerless, listening to his father shout and his mother cry. That was where the liquor bottle sat; and there, that was the parking space for the Legendmobile, the tire prints like stains on the cement.

Time to leave this place.

* * *

It's a large house, elegant and almost needlessly ornate, arguably too large for just two people, but it's got a few perks that Yuri likes.

One, desperate sellers. He doesn't take advantage of their panic by undercutting their price, but when Yuri makes his offer, they instantly take it, then hold their breath and don't let it out until they finish signing over the house to him. They were nervous people with nervous fears, and after an unofficial background check at work, Yuri knew he wasn't buying a house from anyone suspicious. They just wanted out, much like Yuri himself.

Two, the right blend of quiet and private. He has a new, much longer commute in to central Sternbild, but this neighborhood has the perfect tipping point of peaceful enough to promote calm and order, but not so silent that his mother will attract attention if she starts screaming again.

Three, a basement. Because Yuri is about to start doing many things he doesn't want his mother to see.

* * *

Yuri wakes up every day at five in the morning. He rolls out of bed and onto his floor, and performs a series of stretches he learned from a gymnastics video. It takes him about an hour to do forty-five minutes worth of stretches, but he pushes through, loosening absolutely every muscle in his body. It's slow progress, but Yuri always finishes the stretches with a few tests: splits, twists, and lying on his stomach and touching his toes to the back of his head. Those tester actions become less difficult and strenuous as time goes on.

At six, he runs. He knows a street that goes on for miles and miles, further than he could actually run, but he chooses it because he wants to build time. He sets a timer, gives himself twenty minutes to run in one direction, and thirty minutes to run home. He tracks his distance, and constantly pushes further.

Once home, he showers, dresses, and puts on his makeup. He takes breakfast with him to work, which in light of his graduation, transitions from an internship into a paid position as a proto-legal aide as Yuri matriculates into graduate school, which focuses a lot more independent research than lectures and classes. His work puts him in contact with a lot of the volumes he'll need to use to write a graduate thesis, so as long as he documents those sources well for future reference, the work goes rigorously but smoothly. During the day, he spends as much time on his feet as he can walking and fetching, subtly changing the angle of his footfalls so he puts more strain on his calves and exercises them during times when he would ordinarily be idle.

He fills the hours of nine to five each day with a combination of graduate work and work for the Justice Bureau, depending on the day. Five to six, he runs errands and performs chores, working barely a day ahead of what needs to get done: bills, shopping, laundry, and the like are all addressed only when failure would result in extreme discomfort or disruption of his charade as a model citizen. Six to seven, he prepares and eats dinner. Seven to ten, he alternates studying and strength training, spending one hour with his books and then a half hour doing pushups, sit ups, wall squats, explosions, everything he can do to build his strength without gym equipment.

The hours from ten to midnight are reserved in case his mother has an outburst and needs his attention. He can't schedule her episodes, but he leaves the time open so that he can help her and then shift his schedule backwards without frustration. Moving houses has had the desired effect of removing Yuri's mother from painful memories, but she still prefers her dream world to reality. At least she's calmer in this place.

When Yuri's day finishes, he determines what he's able to do in regards to practice for his powers. After some study, he realizes Wednesdays statistically demand the least from him in terms of due dates and work to be done, so Tuesday nights he may forego sleep entirely and practice at whatever abandoned lot is available that night, developing new applications for his power. Flight continues to elude him. He's having trouble creating propulsion with his fire while keeping his body straight and stable. The most he does is stand and burn, or jump and burn, or crash and burn. On nights where his time runs short or deadlines loom, Yuri takes a meditative route, focusing on precise, telepathic control over his flames, and sometimes doesn't even leave his house. He feels a bit like he's staring at goats, but he hopes he has the ability to ignite objects without touching them, namely, a candle he sets at his feet to help him focus his mind toward his goal.

If Legend appears, Yuri freezes. If he's at the office, a co-worker quickly rouses him, inadvertently chasing the ghost away. If he's at home, he stands frozen for an hour or more, staring at the apparition as it smirks at him. Knowing. Judging.

Legend has yet to speak again. But when he does, Yuri knows he won't like what he hears.

* * *

"The point of law, Petrov," Yuri's boss tells him. "Is what's _defensible_. Even attacks have to be defensible. You can be right, you can be wrong, all that matters is that you can keep people from poking holes in your position, finding chinks in your armor. Law is more ruthless than any war."

Yuri expresses his discomfort with such an attitude. Really, the lawyers on both sides are as sworn to uphold the law as the police and heroes who make arrests. A defense lawyer is supposed to ensure their charge is treated fairly, not 'proven' innocent when they are clearly guilty. And a prosecutor is supposed to determine exactly which laws and precedents are applicable to the case, and to suggest punishments that fit the crime, not pile on accusations hoping that something sticks. That is the purpose of those roles. It's not to lie or make money or serve an individual person's interests. All persons in the courtroom are sworn to uphold the spirit of the laws, for a harmonious society.

His boss laughs at him. "That sort of attitude is for the judges. They're the ones with fairness in mind. A prosecutor and defender are locked in a tug-of-war until the judge declares one the winner."

Yuri ends the conversation with a half-hearted joke about becoming a judge someday, since neither prosecution nor defense correlate with his idea of justice.

"Good luck with that, kid."

* * *

The candle ignites.

With an spurt of flame, it sets off the fire alarm that Yuri hasn't heard in years, but he did it. He created a flame not on his body, but on separate object, without moving. He takes the candle and immediately begins testing the properties of this psychic fire. It definitely has an element of force to it, the physically felt shock wave from an explosion. He has a short window of opportunity, too, while the flame remains _his_, where he can hold his hand in the fire without pain, even though it violates the earlier presumed-unbreakable rule about things caught on fire having the ability to burn Yuri. The window only lasts a few seconds, but the more ways Yuri has to maximize his fireproofing, the better. The ability to ignite targets at a distance also reduces his firepower immensely. It's still enough to burn most materials, but nowhere near as powerful as his hands, his eyes, and so, so much weaker than his pellets and spears of condensed flame.

The psychic ignition also catapults Yuri beyond one of his most hated hurdles: propulsion with fire. Those explosions beneath his hands, explosions he remains immune to for the duration that they exist, when properly aligned can send Yuri flying ten feet into the air. Then, after a few hard falls, he discovers how to add another small burst just before impact, so he lands on his feet as opposed to flat on his back. His altitudes are supremely limited, since he can't rise too far above street level without attracting attention as the man flying through the sky, but he has thousands of ground-level applications to explore before he heads for the skies.

And then his feet ignite.

_That's _new.

Probably a sign he should take it easy for a while.

* * *

After such progress, Yuri starts losing his rhythm. His boss describes it like computer lag—Yuri just stops, stares, sometimes it doesn't even look like he's breathing. It passes in a few seconds, but people worry. And people worried is the last thing Yuri needs.

He notices it at home, too. With no one to interrupt him, his lags are longer. He'll look up from morning exercises and realize he hasn't changed stretches in over five minutes. Or he's staring at a page he's read twice. Or he blinks and sees his computer's screensaver has started to play. And he just can't account for the lost time. Is he falling asleep? Blacking out?

He adjusts his schedule a bit. Five hours of sleep, at least. He sacrifices exercise and study if necessary, just to ensure he makes it to bed for that precious time. Any training with his powers can wait for the weekends or be performed in-home.

And then Legend appears again. This time, Yuri faces him, stands tall and stares into the white eyes of his mask. After all, wasn't Legend the one who said that Yuri should never turn a blind eye to evil? Did he truly expect Yuri to sit by and watch him hit his mother? No, Legend brought his death upon himself.

"_Why do you look at me with that face?_" Legend says. "_I just have a question to ask._"

A question?

"_If it's part of your idea of justice to punish those who kill, who's going to punish you?_"

With that, Legend vanishes, but Yuri falls to his knees and bites back his scream. The underlying whisper of _murderer, murderer _that he's managed to suppress for so long slams into him again at full force. And now it sounds like his father's voice.


	3. Lawyer

It correlates. When Yuri feels most secure in his idea of justice, that's when Legend appears, to taunt and torment him, to remind him of his own sins. Legend makes him shake and tremble, lie awake at night, relive his scars and horrors until he feels physically sick.

But before Yuri can reach his absolute worst, decide once and for all to abandon his quest, the visions abate. He sees less and less of the masked hero, though Yuri expects him to appear at every turn. The longer he stays on his guard, the fewer appearances Legend makes, until Yuri goes days, weeks, sometimes a month without seeing him.

And then, when Yuri starts to forget about him, he returns.

Legend isn't trying to break Yuri. He doesn't want to drag Yuri all the way into madness or despair. He'd rather keep Yuri teetering on the edge, unsure of what is real, what is true, what is justice. He doesn't want Yuri to have an answer to his question of sin, because the minute he absolves himself of guilt or surrenders to it, he'll stop feeling afraid.

So Legend holds Yuri captive. He pins Yuri in the gray area between right and wrong like an insect under his thumb.

It's torture.

* * *

He makes it out of graduate school, receives his law degree, and passes the bar. By this time, he's so entrenched in the Hero Department that they naturally take him on as a prosecutor, since it's far cheaper to hire an attorney they barely have to train. The spoils of such a victory are definitely lesser than his superiors, but he suddenly has an office. And cases. And clout.

The timing is just right that only after a few weeks of practicing law, he earns an invitation to one of the Hero TV galas. The corporations are careful to include the civil servants on whom their entire industry depends in their self-congratulatory parties. It's a token gesture: 'thank you for supporting the secrets, lies, conspiracies, cover-ups, and tricks of business. In exchange for selling out your souls, have some of our wine.'

Tasting that wine feels like sacrilege to Yuri. But not taking it would mark him as a renegade, and he needs to stay part of the fold. For now.

This celebration is all about the new hero, a fire-type NEXT like Yuri himself. He's glowing and grand as everyone surrounds and praises him, and Yuri offers his standard, mandatory good wishes, when he'd so much rather lay his hand on the hero's face and give _him_ a scar, show him the _true _power of fire.

This man lives like he has no sin. Whatever horrors are hidden under that cowl, not a single one of them shows in his actions and words. All the heroes are like that: when they put on their masks and capes and suits, they cease to be people, and instead become dolls that all of Sternbild uses to play games of Cops and Robbers. The companies eradicate their pasts, their wishes, their wills, in the name of their entertainment and profit. With such a deep sin plaguing him, Yuri can't understand how these people fail to have their sins guide their every move, the way Yuri's are guided. Listening to this man talk and laugh without a care in the world, Yuri feels his power building just behind his eyes. He's going to cause an accident and murder the entire reception hall if he doesn't leave soon.

Yuri appears before the necessary people, greets them, but then quickly escapes. He drives not home, but to one of his old practice spots under a highway ramp. He ditches his car, stripping off tie, jacket, and shirt, twisting his hair back so tight it pulls on the burned flesh of his face, and once he's on the concrete, he falls to his knees and beats the concrete with flaming fists.

How dare they! How dare any of them represent truth! How dare they pretend they're right! How dare they think that justice is points in a game! How dare this new hero have a fire power that doesn't cause him constant torment! How dare they flaunt their accomplishments and assume the light has won the day! How dare they! How dare they! _How dare they how dare they HOW DARE THEY HOW—_

Yuri's right hand sinks into the concrete, up to his mid-forearm, and an intense rush of pins and needles shock his skin. Before Yuri can think, he pulls his arm back, and the fire vanishes. Kneeling there, Yuri cradles his hand and stares at the concrete, before he places his hands on the ground again and pushes. The ground resists him, but he pushes harder, harder, with fire he pushes, harder—_there_. His hands slip into the stone again, as if he were just digging through sand. The electrified pins and needles sensation returns, but Yuri clenches his teeth and continues sifting his hands inside the concrete itself, intangible fingers passing directly through solid matter.

When he pulls his hands from the concrete, he knows it's not enough. He just discovered the power to _pass his hands through solid objects_ but before he can even think about it, Yuri stands, turns, and _runs _as fast as he possibly can, his power flowing through every vein, burning away all of his fear and doubt. He runs, directs his course toward a five-foot-thick concrete pillar, but he never stops running, a guttural roar building in his gut and escaping through his mouth in a raw shout.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer. Closer. Closer-closer-closer-_closer_!

His howl turns to a scream of pain as he meets the concrete, the pins and needles piercing him, stabbing straight through his insides and outsides, every inch of his flesh itching and burning. He sees nothing but neon blue and sickly, toxic green, and he falls to the ground.

On his front.

On the other side of the column.

He gasps, shudders, whole body shivering with the sudden changes in sensation, from open air, to the electric stabbing, to the open air again. Once on his hands and knees, all he can do is vomit up everything he ingested that evening, and try his hardest not to land in the sick when he crumples back to the ground.

There's a pair of crimson boots, just in the corner of his eye, but Yuri doesn't even have the strength to hallucinate properly. With any number of ailments causing him agony, from his overturned stomach to his bloody, punched-out knuckles, Yuri loses consciousness beneath the highway.

* * *

The breakthrough of intangibility is the single biggest advancement of Yuri's cause since psychic fire. He practices at home, pushing his hands through his desk, walking through furniture, passing through walls. It's a _very_ painful and unpleasant application of Yuri's power, but the benefits of this new ability cannot be denied. This power will let him strike when least expected and escape where no escape exists. As types of NEXTs go, Yuri is realizing more and more that he possesses far more power than a vast majority of NEXTs, including the heroes themselves. It will remain to be seen if the other fire-type knows the secrets of phase-walking, or if he considers that ability too frightening for family-friendly TV.

Yuri doesn't care about frightening. It's in his best interest to be frightening.

Legend makes his return, asking those probing questions. Why is Yuri the one exempt from the death penalty? Would he believe in the death penalty at all if he hadn't killed his father? Isn't this all a self-serving, after-the-fact justification? Is what Yuri did to his father truly the right thing?

Yuri takes scant comfort in how the death penalty is never addressed in court. Even when facing the worst of the worst criminals, Yuri can never recommend that the judge order their deaths. He's almost able to play both sides: as he plans to create a justice where criminals are executed, he simultaneously secures what little justice he can from the current system. As Yuri skillfully obliterates the defense's pleas of innocence, for mercy, he appeases Legend's spirit, at least for now.

He returns to his 'list:' mask, fear-inspiring appearance, physical standards, weapons, and secondary skills. For years he's been training, both his body and his power. He can run far, climb swiftly, and take most physical blows safely. In addition, with his power, he can fly, phase through solid objects, and create both weak psychic fires and stronger, flaming projectiles.

He's done nothing to gain a weapon, and he's done nothing to create his appearance. With the tenth anniversary of his father's death approaching, such little progress feels… disheartening.

* * *

If Yuri were to honestly answer what scares him, what he fears most, it's his father's hand. That brutal hand that he used to cause so much pain to the ones he loved the most.

He knows it's not a commonly shared fear, but hands can and have been portrayed threateningly in media and folklore. A beast with claws, the twitching fingers of the undead, the scrape of fingernails on a chalkboard. Yes, hands—the wrong hands—are terrifying, no matter who you are.

As he draws out designs, he incorporates handprints wherever he can, long finger stripes, wide, crushing palms, bulky knuckles, talons. He goes through dozens of designs, just drafting clothes onto paper models, as he wonders, what else scares people?

Black.

And eyes.

And teeth.

* * *

His design begins to settle: a tight material for his torso and arms, flared shoulders so he can build some light shoulder armor into them—which, he learned, are called _pauldrons_—just enough to protect the complex and vulnerable joint without sacrificing mobility. He'll use geometric, five-finger designs, with a handprint on his chest and one on his eventual mask, which is still cycling through experimental designs. He's got an idea for a cape, too, which will include more fingers, but he's not quite sure how.

This also begins the first of _many _fights with his mother's old sewing machine. His experiments in cutting up and patching back together his old compression shirts are horrendous. The seams are uneven, his measurements are faulty, he can never properly account for the stretch, and the end result looks more like a sloppy patchwork quilt than a sleek, geometric suit.

_Stupid contraption._

* * *

_**Welcome to SuitSalle! The #1 Online Community for Fan-Designed Hero Suits!**_

_From hobbyists to professionals, share ideas, tips, and tricks with thousands of hero fans in Sternbild and beyond!_

_**Subject**: Novice designer with questions about fabric._

_**Thread by**: Hero1947_

_Hero1947: _Hello. This is my first time posting to the site. I'm interested in designing a hero costume, but I'm having difficulty picking a material. I don't want a career in design, but I want the finished product to have quality comparable to professional hero suits. I tried sewing spandex and other sport fabrics with no success. I'd like suggestions for light, tight, breathable fabrics, as well as how to sew them in complex designs.

_LaModaModerna:_ Hey Hero! ;) Welcome to the site! ^_^ Well, I'd recommend leotard/dance fabrics first. It's got more nylon and cotton in it than sport fabrics, and means that it's not going to stretch as much between when you sew it out and put it on. If you really need it to be clingy, you can use material used in swimsuits, which should be easier to sew than spandex, but you've got the same measurement problem about the fabric changing shape on your body. Have a friend help you take measurements, not just your 3 sizes, but around the arms, neck, and other points on your torso. Also, how complex are we talking for these designs? If this is your first suit, it's best to keep it simple_._

_xSparkleSaviorx: _i ditto moda for leotard fabric. it can get expensive tho. you can look for sales but those are hard to trak.

_Hero1947: _Thank you. Cost is not a concern for me. I'll look into dance fabrics. As for the complexity, I know a simpler suit would be easier, but I have a vision to follow. The complexity comes from overlaying geometric designs on an uneven human form.

_LaModaModerna: _Okay, I got it. (btw, SO jelly that cost isn't a concern for you!) I found some tutorials about sewing stretchy fabrics. You're not the first person to try and make a bona-fide hero suit with a home sewing machine. ;) [LINK] If you posted your sketches, we could give you some more tips.

_Hero1947: _That won't be necessary. Thank you for your advice and the tutorial. It's very helpful.

* * *

As pathetic as the hero-crazed users of SuitSalle are, Yuri finds his most valuable information there in regards to his suit and mask. The cottony leotard fabric is indeed much easier to sew, and combined with the tutorial, his first suit takes shape. He can't stop staring at his errors, and the colors are all a shade off of what he wanted, but it's a serviceable proof-of-concept. He'll definitely need to make a few others before he makes his appearance. Namely, some of those seams could stand to be more cleverly disguised. Perhaps some sort of piping…

He also searches through existing posts for ideas about how to create his mask. There's a lot of discussion about reverse-engineering the masks and helmets currently used on Hero TV, but there's a bit of a consensus that, for fan masks, plaster is the most versatile, middle-road material. It's not fragile or flimsy like a mask, but it's not heavy or made with specialty equipment like a helmet.

Yuri thinks it complements his current designs very well, too. His mask, featuring three of his fear points—bared teeth, unblinking eyes, and a handprint—should appear as frozen and expressionless as possible, seeming both like a human face and an alien disguise. A delicate balance to strike indeed.

Besides, making the mask bases is relatively easy. It certainly requires skill and focus to create the perfectly smooth outer surface that Yuri wants, but he can cover a modeling head and and then go do something else while it dries. It's a welcome distraction many nights, to stir up some plaster and let a new face—a clean, blank face—take shape.

* * *

He's been recommended to become a judge.

He expresses surprise at first, but his old boss claps him on the shoulder and reminds him about a conversation they had years ago, about how Yuri wished for prosecution and defense to represent the spirit of laws and fairness. Even as Yuri had been forced to take sides, his legal record indicates that he tries his best to follow his idea of justice, and rather than rooting around for conviction-level charges, does his best to address the crime in question and find the appropriate course of action. He's not a soldier in the courtroom; he's a mediator, a negotiator. And that's the role of the judge, is it not?

Well, put that way, Yuri thanks everyone profusely, thanks them for the lessons they taught him, thanks them for their faith in him, thanks them for this chance to serve Sternbild even further. His future vigilante persona thanks them for this insider position, the ability to access high-level convicts, the clearance for secret records.

It takes a grueling gauntlet of evaluation to get there. Every single bit of Yuri's life on record, from his birth to his education to his medical records—_NC 1962, admitted to the hospital for facial burns from a gasoline fire_—are examined and cross-checked and questioned. Yuri spends sleepless nights wondering what he'll do if the truth is uncovered, if people realize he murdered his father, but the lies put into place to prevent Mr. Legend's power decline from becoming a public scandal insulate Yuri from discovery. Though he is questioned about the nature of his father's death, it is not a criminal investigation, and his testimony stands. They don't ask to talk to his mother. They don't ask to see his burn.

The rest of it is a question of rulings, if he agreed or disagreed with historic rulings and dissents, and why. The death penalty doesn't even come up, and after two weeks of evaluation, Yuri recites a binding oath to uphold the law of the City of Sternbild, and is dubbed the Honorable Justice Yuri Petrov.

For the next four nights, Legend will not let Yuri sleep—"_Honorable Justice? That's the greatest lie of all._"—but during the days at work, as lawyers, aides, associates, and peers call him 'Justice Petrov,' the swell of validation is enough to sustain him.

Now, it sounds a little bit like his first name is 'justice.' Justice Petrov.

Mr. Justice.


	4. Judge

The Executive Justice of the Hero Department, the one who works directly with the heroes and their civilian identities, is an tottering old man: back hunched, hair wispy, face droopy. A relic of justice. Yuri's met him on a few occasions before; he's a generally friendly person, and certainly still competent in his position, but the entire department feels him fading. He will need a successor someday.

The old Justice takes a particular interest in Yuri, rather astounded by his record as an aide, prosecutor, and now, fellow justice of the peace. They have a few passing-in-the-hallway conversations that Yuri finds incredibly awkward, but he navigates the small talk well enough that the old Justice leaves smiling and laughing. It's an incredible stretch, but acquiring the title of Executive Justice is definitely part of Yuri's long-term goals. That sort of close relationship with the intricacies of Hero TV will let him strike at the perfect moment, for maximum effect. The power and security of that position are enviable. He knows there are senior justices with longer records interested in the position, but that won't stop Yuri from presenting the most charming facade possible. It never hurts to be well-liked.

One day, the old Justice invites Yuri to his office, claiming he has something to give Yuri. It's a small gold pin: a set of scales.

"They're the Scales of Themis," the old man confides in Yuri. "The Greek embodiment of justice. Justice is a Titan, even older than the Olympian gods. That's what we… represent. Justice existed long before man existed. Before man's gods existed. It's up to us to protect it."

Yuri examines the scales, and wonders if man threw these scales of justice out of balance in the first place, creating the rotten world in which they live. But he thanks his superior for his generous and thoughtful gift, and makes sure he's wearing the pin at every moment in the courthouse, where the old Justice can see and smile upon it.

* * *

He dons his prototype suit and spends some time examining his appearance in the bathroom mirror, periodically igniting his hands or eyes, for effect.

_Themis. Themis. Themis._

He can become Themis. Justice itself. Such a name will definitely add to the legitimacy of his actions, almost forcing people to look at his murders through a lens of crime and punishment. From that angle, his executions become much more sympathetic, and due to that, people will re-evaluate the rotten justice prevailing in the world.

A quick search on the Internet reveals that Themis is a _titaness_, the female personification of justice. And while that doesn't bother Yuri at first—he knows of other Greek names adopted by men, such as Artemis, the goddess of the hunt—but the notion quickly falls apart. He's not interested in gender games, unlike a certain _other_ fire-manipulator, and it would distract from his justice if, at every appearance, he had to explain, no, he is not a girl, he uses the name of a goddess because the goddess is justice and since he is justice he should therefore have the name of justice even if it is the name of a goddess… Yuri gets a headache just imagining the mythology lecture he would have to deliver every time he encounters someone unfamiliar with his methods and purpose.

Themis won't do. A few other cultures have male gods of justice, but they're either too obscure or they don't fit Yuri's aesthetics. He wanders the web of interconnected Greek gods for a little longer, tracing bloodlines, patronages, and portrayals in myth and media.

And then the finds _Thanatos._

* * *

It's almost too perfect for words. Thanatos, the Greek god of death itself, the son of the god of darkness and the goddess of the night. The choice solidifies in his mind when he finds a quote from a translation of poetry by Hesiod. He said that Thanatos has "_a heart of iron, and his spirit within him is pitiless as bronze: whomsoever of men he has once seized he holds fast: and he is hateful even to the deathless gods._"

Yuri thinks of everything he hates in this world, and realizes that as much as he despises the individual sinners who refuse to repent, he hates the companies that perpetuate such rotten justice equally. He's seen the arguments against corporations and capitalism time and time again, but not a single one of them offers any sort of realistic method with which to destroy them. Yes, the giants of commerce in Sternbild may as well be deathless gods that Yuri, with all his powers as the god of death, can never hope to kill.

Thanatos. Yuri will be definitely become Thanatos.

* * *

"_If you punish murderers by killing them, then you are a murderer,_" Legend reminds Yuri one night. "_Who will punish you for killing criminals?_"

Yuri finally has his answer. He creates a little pellet of fire and holds it to his mouth for Legend to see. It's better than a cyanide pill. If the authorities ever captured Thanatos, Yuri would at long last judge himself. He would swallow his own fire and burn from the inside out, accepting the punishment that he will earn for himself through his crusade.

"_Suicide,_" Legend smirks. "_The most cowardly thing in the entire world._"

It's not cowardice, it's justice. Criminals are killed not as citizens, but as enemies of a harmonious state. Yuri's death will be in accordance with that idea of justice, whether he or a third party is the executioner.

"_You've always been a coward. You've lied your way into a place of power, and you're going to abuse it for your own ends. You haven't even owned up to your crime._"

He covers his eyes with his palms to cut off the rising flames. Because that's not true. Yuri has owned this crime completely for years, he's let it guide his every action, his every thought! There is nothing closer and more crucial to Yuri's self than this crime for which he can never fully repent.

"_Is what you did to me truly the right thing?_"

* * *

His sewing is improving. The second Thanatos suit is much finer craftsmanship than its predecessor, and it boasts a few flairs that Yuri threw in, like the squares cut out of the long pants, that really pull the look together. He makes edits his cape design, too, including many more fragments, asymmetric slices, and more piping to hide seams.

Unfortunately, the newfound complexity means that Yuri's design is all over the place. He can't keep straight which piece is meant to go where. The two hours he blocked out to create his cape quickly turned into three. Then four. Then five.

Yuri wakes to a hand gently rubbing his back, pieces of fabric and thread still strewn about everywhere. Blinking slowly, he sees his mother, her wheelchair parked beside the sewing bench, smiling down at him with tenderness.

"You're such a brave boy, Yuri," she tells him. "Trying to become a hero and follow your father."

The words make his scar ache, but Yuri shoves the pain away, because he hasn't seen his mother's face look like that in years—so beautiful, so serene. "I just… This isn't…"

She keeps smiling, and shows Yuri some papers she's gathered in her lap. They're the drafts for of his cape, covered in notes about fabric, color, stitches, and textures.

"So creative," she praises. "You could be an artist, or a designer, if you wanted. But let Mama sew your cape. I'll make you look handsome out there, for the cameras."

Stiff-boned, Yuri allows his mother to take over the sewing machine, but stands by her side for another few minutes as she clears the workspace and deftly organizes his mismatched cutouts.

He doesn't hate her. He's disappointed in her, he pities her, he's angry at her, he wishes she were sane, but as much as it's a daily torment to care for her, listen to her ravings, endure her tantrums, Yuri loves her. He loves her more than he realized.

He gently hugs around her shoulders and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. His mother laughs and asks why he's so affectionate all of the sudden. Yuri tells her there's no reason.

She never asked for any of this. That's why Yuri can never hate her. The only one who deserves to be hated is himself.

* * *

The Thanatos cape that his mother made is vastly superior to Yuri's craftsmanship. The seams are strong and concealed with perfectly piped accents, the material flows easily around his shoulders, she even stitched the collar correctly, cinching fabric together until it's rigid and holds its shape without starching. It's a thing of beauty, and its completion gives Yuri time to worry about other details, like finding lenses for his Thanatos mask that will allow him to see, still obscure his eyes, and also not melt or warp should his eyes catch fire.

With his attention focused elsewhere, Yuri is very surprised when he comes home one day and finds his mother making a second cape. He had thanked her profusely for the first one, but then taken it away to the basement, where his wheelchair-bound mother couldn't go. Likely her internal timeline reset, and seeing her son's designs for a hero cape sitting amid a pile of material, but without the finished product, she assumed that she had not yet made the cape, and went about crafting another.

It seems like a dilemma, at least at first. Like her delusional family dinners and conversations with her dead husband, is it wrong to take advantage of her madness and let her continue crafting capes? If Yuri just leaves the plans and materials out in the open, she'll likely go on forever. Is it inherently wrong to trick his own mother into helping him become the god of death, Thanatos, in his quest to eradicate evil through murder?

He decides, no. She's calm when sewing. He carefully examines her hands after she finishes the second cape, and decides her risk of hurting herself is very low. Capes are a rather dangerous design choice, anyway. The only heroes who used capes these days are either extremely arrogant, extremely stupid, or both. The cape can and would be damaged in the field, and he'd need new ones every so often.

Let her continue. Let her make cape after cape after cape. Let her think that her son is going off to be a hero. Let her be happy.

* * *

Yuri suddenly realizes exactly how dangerous it could be to name himself after an actual deity, even from antiquity.

He presides over a case involving a shooting; the death of a civilian by a Hero Academy student. The student is defiant for the whole trial, teeth gritted and eyes low, as if he felt like he has no reason to be in Yuri's courtroom. Teachers and peers testify that the student is a good person who made a mistake, while the prosecution insists that there is no room to forgive murder, accidental or not, and they need to make an example of this boy to deter others from intervening in the affairs of police officers and heroes.

Yuri's idea of justice aligns with the prosecution, but the experience of sentencing that student makes Yuri seriously re-evaluate his approach. Naming himself after a god (a hateful god of death, but a god nonetheless) glorifies his punishments. And he does want his executions glorified, he just wants the public to understand how much safer their lives will be if the monsters in their city are eradicated. But, he must not be emulated. This is the fate that Yuri earned when he burned his father alive, making his ultimate decision to never permit evil in any form. He cannot expect any other person to have such a devotion to justice, and frankly, the whole point of his vigilantism is so other vigilantes will fade into the night. At this point, he's so accustomed to the idea of being Sternbild's executioner that he will stand against anyone else following him down his path. He already knows how he'll deal with any copycats or self-appointed sidekicks: _cruelly._

Yes, becoming their god would encourage people to follow him, validate unapologetic criminals like the Hero Academy boy, legitimize their sins. Sin must never be glorified; only justice. And even with his bitter heart, Yuri can see that this boy lacks the sheer courage and power of will to stand by his mistakes and _repent_. Yuri must become something utterly reprehensible, something disgusting that people will accept but maintain distance from. He needs to occupy an untouchable, inimitable role.

It doesn't help that the boy's failure makes it absolutely clear what could happen to Yuri should he fail. Ignoring the always-vocal extremists, the shooting stirs up lingering anti-NEXT sentiment in the moderates. Yuri watches the rhetoric circulate, _This is what happens when NEXTs try to decide what's best for normal people. Taxpayers are spending money on this hero school that clearly isn't teaching NEXTs to protect us. The only NEXTs we can trust are the ones trained and approved by the Justice Bureau; all others are dangerous. _A single mistaken kill and Yuri will forever be condemned, and his justice will never shine.

The problem rolls itself around Yuri's head for quite some time (how to appear both good and evil?) until he finds the answer in his courtroom yet again. An obviously well-paid defense attorney attempts to plead insanity for his client. He's got the criminal dolled up to look the part, too, tousled hair, slouched posture, limp joints, shadowed eyes. As a man who wears makeup, Yuri knows instantly that the shadows are painted on, but it gives Yuri a direction with which to take his image.

What is more disgusting than madness? If Yuri feigns insanity—insane looks, insane manners, insane methods—then people will run from him. But, he will not act out of madness. No, he'll be perfectly rational in his selection of victims, with precision and clarity that not even his detractors will be able to deny. Fiendish image paired with righteous action should be enough to win him fans, but not followers. And really, they say justice should be blind: blind to race, class, wealth. Since Yuri cannot make himself physically blind, the next best thing is to take up the mantle of an insane justice, one that disregards the qualifiers of status and judges criminals for what they truly are.

He plays with the Internet a bit, gathering a list of words that refer to people with mental illnesses. Madman. Psycho. Schizo. Lunatic.

None of the words are quite right, but the more he looks at them, the more _lunatic _starts to grow on him.

* * *

The Lunatic is a servant, much like Justice Yuri Petrov.

Yes, that's the distinction to draw, The Lunatic is not a god. He's not deciding what is good and evil. He's simply following existing distinctions and distributing more appropriate punishments. His every action is in the interest of Sternbild and its continued prosperity. The same way Justice Petrov presides in court, not as the master of law itself, but as someone representing law, The Lunatic needs to represent a higher will, so no one can claim he acts in hatred.

And that's where the connection to Thanatos remains. He will hear and obey the voice of Thanatos.

* * *

It's been a few years, but Yuri looks back to his list. He's crafted a great and terrible persona. His costume and mask matches that character. He's not one for self-congratulation, but his body is fantastic, and strong as it looks. Flight, phase-walking, psychic fire, and condensed fire projectiles all come second-nature to him now.

There's only one piece he's missing from his list.

Weapons.

He briefly wonders if he needs them anymore, but dismisses that notion. He's got a formidable skill set, but even he knows where his limits lie. His ability to fly is literally a combustion engine, a controlled series of explosions from his hands and feet, not true flight. Even if the explosions come naturally, Yuri has to focus _a lot_ on where he's going so he doesn't crash, burn, and die. Similar for phase-walking: as far as his tests know, he can pass through any object, of any size, for as long as he can endure the sickening-stabbing sensation of pins and needles. His endurance is high, but not limitless. Definitely an ability to use sparingly. Psychic fire is also an excellent offensive ability—he can set his targets on fire _with just a look_—but the flames are nowhere near as intense as direct contact, and not guaranteed lethal. And he'd rather not be a close-range combatant, since he hasn't found a way shield himself with his NEXT ability. He supposes that is one thing to be envious of the weaker fire-type over. His fellow flame-type NEXT has demonstrated the power to vaporize small projectiles in a shield of flame, something Yuri has tried and failed to imitate. Kudos to the Medium-Rare Hero.

When he considers what ranged weapons are feasible, the answer soon becomes glaringly obvious: the crossbow. Rather than a gun, full of delicate inner workings, once the crossbow is drawn, all Yuri has to do is place a long rod of condensed flame in the trough and pull the trigger. It's also much easier to point and shoot than other weapons, such as a traditional longbow, a sling, or an atlatl (a wooden arm extension which improves the force of thrown javelins). A quick search through some hunting forums reveal that not only are certain materials used in crossbows incredibly heat-resistant, but many _standard _models have grooves made from glass-filled nylon, a substance with an impressively high melting point. He sees some advertisements along the way for custom-crafted crossbows, but remembers that ordering such a distinctive weapon will probably be traced back to him. Better to order a more common model and then alter it at home himself.

In three weeks, the crossbow delivers, painted in camouflage tones. That will need to be repainted to match The Lunatic's color scheme, and Yuri wants to add some other design flairs, but the device itself is perfectly serviceable. Yuri takes it out behind his house and shoots a few normal bolts at nearby trees. The recoil is low, the weight manageable, and Yuri proves himself a fair marksman in those small-scale backyard shots. The final nail in the coffin will be a test with a bolt of flame.

* * *

Finding a place to perform his test shot is harder than expected. His condensed flames have a tendency to explode on impact, engulfing their target in a tower of blue fire. While he's blamed lesser burns to public structures on hoodlums, such a fire _will _catch someone's attention. But, after almost a month of watching for demolition notices, Yuri finds a satisfactory parking garage due to be torn down shortly.

Under the cover of night, Yuri phases through the chain link fences and takes his perch on the second level from the top, covered from aerial surveillance, but also insulated above late-night pedestrians. He locks the crossbow, creates a bolt of flame in his left hand, and slides it into the groove. He stands for a few seconds, testing whether or not the crossbow will burst into flame. When the device remains intact, Yuri selects a support column about twenty yards away, and fires.

He's fairly certain it's a dead hit, but the torrent of flame obscures exactly where the bolt struck. That's the one shot Yuri needs as proof of concept. He can be deadly accurate at short range, but when raining hellfire down upon sinners, he can definitely stand much further back and still kill.

His range has just been increased tenfold, and the final item on his list, _weapons_, is complete. He has a face, a style, powers, skills, and a signature weapon.

He has everything he needs.


	5. Lunatic

Yuri spends another few weeks going about his usual business, his stomach churning at the very idea of going home that night, donning the suit of The Lunatic, and then executing his first sinner. In the meantime, he finds old case dockets and starts compiling a list of people to eventually kill. The lowest of the low. Those who hurt others and never once repented for their actions. Though he investigates his targets electronically, he begins compiling a paper list of names and prisons, because paper burns much more cleanly than computer chips, and just as permanently.

And there's really no harm in continuing practice. There's always more to improve, weaknesses he wants to discover in private rather than in the field. And he wanted to wait until more of the barbecue grill paint came in, so he could both decorate and heat-treat his mask. And the crossbow needs customization, too, so it looks less like hunter equipment and more like an otherworldly weapon. And after that's done, he catches a cough, best wait and go into this with a healthy body. And then he needs to be at court bright and early for a high-profile case. And the day after he's supposed to meet the mayor, that meeting shouldn't be interrupted…

He's ready… except he's not. Especially since every time he thinks he's ready, Legend appears.

* * *

The Executive Justice retires. The department's betting pool over how much longer he would last is finally over.

But, to Yuri's _extreme _shock, he is appointed as the old Justice's successor. Through an incredibly convoluted cocktail of recommendations, votes, appointments, and overrides, Yuri is to become the Executive Justice of the Hero Department. With a hero culture as strong as Sternbild's, Yuri is basically the most powerful Justice in the whole city. As he expresses his astonished confusion to co-workers and peers, hoping for answers, he gets nothing in return but a confusing tangle of congratulations.

How did this happen? Yuri wanted to become the Executive Justice, yes, but he never expressed that desire to a single living soul. He just played office politics, no more or less than anyone else. And no one had approached him beforehand asking for a favor should this miracle come to pass.

This is some sort of corruption. He knows it. There is absolutely no way that a young Justice with only eight years of experience in the Bureau itself, three years as an intern and aide, another three as a prosecutor, only _two _as a judge, is the choice candidate for this position. Some powerful individual or collective with their filthy fingers deeply entangled in the Justice Bureau has made this decision, and paid, threatened, or otherwise coerced everyone else into agreeing with the appointment.

Yuri accepts the suspect position, almost out of spite. Call it paranoia, but Yuri knows that someday, someone will come ask for him to do something unspeakable, and cite his position as Executive Justice as their advance payment for his help. This might even be someone who knows that Yuri killed his father, someone who will try to blackmail him with making that information public. Well, Yuri has enough records in return to prove that the Legendmobile belongs to the Petrov family, and that Mr. Legend was an alcoholic domestic abuser. Anyone trying to destroy Yuri or bend him to their evil whims will find that Yuri can single-handedly destroy the hero culture of Sternbild. And he is absolutely fine using that weapon against anyone who tries to stop his justice with shady, underhanded tactics.

Whoever decided to illegally advance Yuri into a coveted position of power... will _severely _regret it.

* * *

For all the drama of securing the position, Yuri settles gracefully into the rhythm of Executive Justice. Through the first week, he anticipates a mysterious phone call with every ring or a suspicious visitor around every corner, but his work quickly starts to pile up, and he just can't spare the time to worry about it. His job had three major requirements, all relatively simple and straightforward, but covering a wide array of duties.

First, Yuri must preside over any case that require a hero's presence or testimony, so their secret identities stay restricted. Yuri receives a docket of personnel files immediately after his swearing in, and though he learns their names and faces quickly, he only meets them for court. And the most common court appearances revolve around damages settlements, when a hero breaks a private or public structure and the court has to determine if the damage was necessary: necessary damages covered by the city, unnecessary damages paid for by the sponsors. Yuri hates damage court, but it's by far the largest part of his docket on any given day.

Second, Yuri is the chief legal advisor to Hero TV and all sponsor companies. Rather than using lawyers, who have a reputation of green-lighting actions based on the likelihood of lawsuit rather than the mandate of the law, Hero TV has to use the Justice Bureau to double-check its plans so that no event poses a threat to civilian safety. Yuri plays messenger between these corporations and local law enforcement, which frays his nerves further, but it does grant him access to hero-exclusive facilities, like the gymnasium and training rooms, which Yuri considers invaluable. These heroes will be his enemies soon, and knowing as much as possible about their strengths and weaknesses could make all the difference.

Third, and most infrequently, Yuri evaluates and gives accreditation to new heroes as they are recruited.

Two months after Yuri assumed his duties, Apollon Media Holdings submits recruitment forms for a new hero, a handsome upstart selling his gimmick of not using a hero identity. Practically in the same mail drop, Yuri receives a report that Apollon is about to buy out its competitor, TopMag. Ordinarily that merger goes through the Chamber of Commerce for review, but since it involves the transfer of a another hero contract, Yuri must oversee it as well.

It reminds Yuri of when he bought his house. Apollon is almost dying to clear their new hero's credentials and get him on the air before the 1976-7 Hero TV season ends. They want both the merger and the accreditation to clear as soon as possible, and their representatives badger Yuri endlessly with follow-up calls and progress checks. He hates the coincidence, but after reading through all the files three times, he finds nothing suspicious. Just ordinary corporate trickery, trying to find the next hot thing—in this case, a hero duo—so they can market it before anyone else.

The rest of the procedure is almost exactly like Yuri's evaluation to become a justice of the peace. The new hero's history and records are intensely scrutinized for any inconsistencies or buried secrets, but he's spotless as fresh snow. His biography is perfectly complete—birth certificate, diplomas, medical records, _his eyesight is that bad?_—and makes him an extremely strong candidate for Hero TV. Yuri almost gets the feeling that the candidate was born in order to become a hero, and it's eerie to think of a child so thoroughly groomed for such a career. But, with no objections, Yuri approves him just in time for his stunning debut on the last episode of the season, with an official introduction during the MVP awards ceremony.

This makes eight heroes who will stand to oppose The Lunatic. Each presents a unique challenge to Yuri—some challenges greater than others, but all of them distinct and varied—and the odds are definitely not in his favor. The Lunatic's debut will undoubtedly draw their undivided attention, and they'll cross corporate affiliations if necessary to take him down.

Waiting has not improved his odds. Waiting never will, even if he waited another fifteen years. He is at a point where waiting any longer will disobey his idea of justice; Yuri will be turning a blind eye to evil, sitting and biding his time.

He's trained. He's studied. He's planned. He's prepared.

He _is _ready.

* * *

Yuri drops the article. It's a last-minute alteration, but he's just fed up with it. Even after all this time, The Lunatic sounds clunky and awkward, like a bad pro wrestler nomiker. He knows people are just going to drop it anyway, and most likely call him 'That Lunatic' instead.

Lunatic. Just Lunatic. He'll adopt it as his third proper name: Petrov, Yuri. Petrov, Justice. Petrov, Lunatic.

* * *

He takes a vacation day to sew one more suit. Mimicking his mother's piping, the third and final Lunatic suit is everything Yuri dreamed it would be. He pulls on the suit, clicks his belt into place, and hangs his crossbow and a some other equipment (like a radio tuned to the police station) onto it. He tugs his gloves into place, swings the cape on over his shoulders, and finally dons the mask.

He resists the urge to look at himself before he leaves, but as he journeys through the Sternbild night, he catches his reflection on a darkened skyscraper's window. He's terrifying. He's the Mad Angel of Death, just as he hoped he would be. Yuri wonders, if he suddenly became a time-manipulator NEXT and had the power to go to the past, to his childhood, and his young self gazed upon Lunatic… what would he think? He knows that vigilante murder would be the furthest thing from young Yuri's mind, but if Yuri had known that this would be his destiny, what would he have done differently? Who would he have been, if not for his tortured fire, his eternal scar, his idea of justice?

He'll never know.

There are three criminals awaiting the voice of Thanatos tonight. Tony Smith, Jack Brown, and Bob Johnson; kidnappers, murderers, thieves. As Executive Justice, Yuri easily accessed their records and checked that all three of them were cellmates at Moros Prison. He's decided to strike against incarcerated criminals first, both as a test of his powers and as a test of his courage. If he fails, it won't be broadcast, and he has the chance to try again.

Yuri thwarts the prison's security measures easily with a combination of flight and phase-walking. He soon finds himself a perch on an adjacent building overlooking the cell. It's after lights out, but with the light of a full moon to help him, Yuri watches the prisoners moving through the thin slats of their barred window. It's time.

"_Wait._"

Yuri expected Legend would follow him tonight, and doesn't look at him. He won't let Legend talk him out of this.

"_Listen to me,_" he continues, a wholly unexpected tactic. Yuri glares out of the corner of his eye, and there he is, standing with his arms and shoulders loose, his mask creased between his eyebrows.

"_I understand your feelings,_" Legend says. "_You want to create a world where people will live without fear of evil. Those are the same reasons that I became a hero. I wanted to be a light of hope for others to follow. I wanted to be the greatest hero. The most loving husband. The best father._"

Yuri grabs his crossbow and aims it directly at Legend. He'll waste his first shot destroying this ghost if he has to. He is sick and tired of the lies and doubt and confusion! There is no place for that tonight! Yuri is finally about to pursue his justice, and Legend will not stop him!

"_Please, listen,_" Yuri can almost see a human expression behind that mask of his. "_What you dream of becoming… and what you become in pursuit of that dream…_" He shakes his head slightly, regretfully. "_They never match up. Whether it was right or wrong to kill me, I'm begging you: _Learn from what I did wrong."

Learn?

Mr. Legend, the bright and shining star of Sternbild, pursuing truth and justice and honor, ended up nothing more than a lowlife abuser and drunkard. If Yuri had intentions to become the embodiment of Justice itself, what will happen if he loses his way? What if he succeeds in his quest, and finds the world has become something completely different than predicted? Could he deal with such unforeseen consequences? Suddenly, Yuri remembers his mother. He completely forgot to set up safeguards for her in case of his arrest or death. He didn't even say goodbye to her before he left the house.

There isn't much that Yuri considers precious to him. He's lost or sacrificed everything else. Is he willing to lose what little he has left that he still cares for?

"_Yuri,_" Legend smiles. It's the smile Yuri remembers from his blissful childhood. "_My son..._"

Yuri can't stop it; his eyes ignite, and in a swell of rage, he throws a fireball straight through Legend's heart. Time and time again, Legend has shaken Yuri's faith in his justice—but not tonight. The phantom vanishes, and eyes still blazing, Yuri turns back to the prison. He conjures a bolt of fire in his hands, slides it into the crossbow, and takes aim.

He takes a deep breath. Clenches his teeth. Grips the crossbow tighter.

Then fires his first shot.


End file.
